Slayer of Death
by Agarwaen Lhach
Summary: A necromancer brings James and Lily Potter back to life, only for them to find that their son is in Azkaban for the murder of Lucius Malfoy.
1. Bring Me to Life

Summary: A necromancer brings James and Lily Potter back to life, only for them to find that their son is in Azkaban for the murder of Lucius Malfoy.  
  
Disclaimer: Mors Occisor and the other necromancers are mine. Nothing else is.  
  
Evanescence makes the best soundtrack for this by far. Bring Me to Life. My Immortal. Anything from Fallen, really.  
  
Slayer of Death  
  
Prologue: Bring Me to Life  
  
The stone dungeon in the heart of Azkaban was dark, including the single figure within it. Unlike the others, curled in the corner of their cell, she was spread upon the floor, her head tilted back as if she was drunk. Her hair was dark and spread like oil on the floor. Under her breath she muttered words in a strange language.  
  
"Tönkrejutás védÅvámrendszer ellen mágiam. Liliom és örökös, éber, éber, visszatérítés irányában megvilágítás! Visszatérítés irányában evégbÅl szükségképpen segédeszköz!"  
  
The guards outside exchanged raised eyebrows.  
  
"That one's lost her marbles," Brayers laughed. It was only his second week, and he was the much less experienced of all the guards. "She didn't even need dementors."  
  
"She was like that when they brought her in," the older of the two, Rodzina. She was the only female guard, but had been around far longer. No one knew quite how old she was; she looked only about thirty or so, but she'd been there as long as anyone could remember. "Screaming nonsense and fighting the guards. That was when they still had dementors."  
  
"How long's she been here?"  
  
Rodzina shrugged. "I only saw her the second time they brought her in. That was nigh on fifty years ago."  
  
"Fifty?!"  
  
"I know. She's a necromancer, so she's in for life. Tried to raise Merlin and Morgan le Fay — and would have, if she hadn't been stopped. She tried to escape fifty years ago; got out of her cell and into the water before she started to sink like a stone. Not because she couldn't swim, it looked like someone pulled her. But we couldn't find anyone in the water."  
  
"Creepy."  
  
She continued to mutter very fast, her head lolling. "Liliom és örökös, éber, éber! Liliom és örökös, éber, éber!"  
  
"Wait a minute..." Brayers said slowly.  
  
"Éber, éber! Éber, éber! Éber, éber!"  
  
"That's not nonsense, it's actually a language," Brayers realized.  
  
"You understand it?"  
  
"Bits."  
  
"Éber, éber! Éber, éber! Éber, éber!"  
  
"What's she saying, then?"  
  
A shocked looked appeared on the younger guard's face.  
  
"Awake."  
  
And an explosion of white light sent them flying down the hall. They watched in disbelief and alarm as slowly, two figures materialized from the blinding aura filling the cell and the hallway beyond. There was a loud sound of screaming above which could be heard crazed, triumphant laughter. Shouted pleas echoed off the walls.  
  
"Not Harry, please not Harry, take me instead!"  
  
"Take Harry and go! I'll hold him off!"  
  
Slowly the glow began to fade, and two figures were revealed, curled on the floor, clad in tattered and stained clothes. A woman and a man. The prisoner stood and touched the man, then the woman on the head, and both rose.  
  
"W-where are we?" the woman stammered.  
  
The prisoner's face cracked into an evil grin. "Welcome to Azkaban, Mr. and Mrs. Potter." 


	2. Going Under

If you don't feel like doing the math, Harry is twenty-one, exactly the age of his parents. Also, I couldn't fit this into the paragraph: Harry was loose for four years (so he was caught at nineteen), so he's had two years in Azkaban.  
  
L's and G's, here's your chance. Begin placing your guesses on the true identity of V. I will give you these hints: he/she was at Hogwarts along with the Trio. V is a letter in his/her name. It is not the first letter of his/her common name. Another hint is the pass-code and the screen name. VW Beetle, so he/she must know about Muggle technology.  
  
Slayer of Death  
  
Chapter One: Going Under  
  
Brayers and Rodzina ran pell-mell towards the end of the hall. The guards were just getting up. Obviously they too had been knocked back by the blast. At the opposite end was a cell that was considered famous or infamous, depending on your point of view. Cell Block 023 was the cell of Harry James Potter.  
  
Six years ago, after his fifth year and the death of his godfather, he had run away from his aunt and uncle's house, breaking the wards that kept him safe. Immediately about sixty Death Eaters attacked. With a wave of his hand, all of them dropped dead. He had gone renegade, unable for anyone to find for four years, earning money with mercenary services. He could kill anyone on the earth from anywhere. The only mark he left was a lightning bolt on the face of all his victims, slicing from their hairline down to their chin. It had taken a hundred Aurors to bring him in, and even then he'd killed thirteen and injured every other. He was under about eighty different spells binding him against doing anything more than blinking.  
  
During his trial, he had been given heavy doses of the strongest Veritaserum. The strongest Ministry Legimens attacked his mind repeatedly. Despite all of it, he never said a word. The only murder they were able to convict him for was that of Lucius Malfoy, which had been committed in the eyesight of several Ministry employees.  
  
The Minister of Magic at the time had been Arthur Weasley. There had been questions on where his loyalty lay, but these were quashed when he became estranged from his own family, his wife, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny, because they had defended Harry in public. He had died weeks later from an accident with a hippogriff. Although most of the wizarding world did, neither his children nor his wife attended his funeral.  
  
Before they even reached the end of the hall, the bars on the cell melted and flew away. Brayers swore loudly.  
  
"The necromancer must have broken all the spells in Azkaban!"  
  
A tall, gaunt man of twenty-five stepped out of the cell and into the hall. His black hair hung in long, matted strands around his face. His robes were the standard Azkaban grey, but more tattered than most, and didn't hang off him. Despite the fact that he hadn't been fed for years, his body was well- muscled. He lifted his head to look the two guards in the eye. Brayers nearly screamed. His eyes alone could have killed. They were a dark, forest green, and sort of cloudy, as if murky creatures swam in their depths.  
  
"Where is the necromancer?" he commanded in a deep voice that resonated with bass tones.  
  
Brayers pointed with a shaky hand. As Harry swept past him and Rodzina, both fell to the floor slowly, gracefully, as if blown over by a gust of wind and steadied by another at the same time.  
  
At the cell at the end of the hall, the necromancer stood. She laughed, an odd cry somewhere between a scream and a single note sung in a minor key.  
  
"I am Mors Occisor. As I said, welcome."  
  
The woman seemed shaken. Her robes were torn more than the man's, and there was a bruise on her cheek. "But we were just in the house!"  
  
Mors cocked a head and raised an eyebrow, making her look like a curious jaguar. "Interesting."  
  
Suddenly Harry reached the cell. The three occupants hadn't even noticed him, but at the sight Mors looked triumphant.  
  
"And so I succeed."  
  
Harry looked somewhat surprised. Not by the sight of his parents; apparently he hadn't noticed them yet. "Mors Occisor. I thought the dementors had finally taken the power out of you."  
  
"Just enough to cure the GE. You don't seem to be quite so lucky."  
  
"GE?" Lily said.  
  
Harry turned. He was positioned just so that at a turn of the head so he looked over his shoulder, he was face-to-face with his father.  
  
The resemblance was striking, if not eerie. The two were perfectly identical but for their eyes and skin — James had a light tan, while Harry was pale from years hidden from the sun.  
  
Rodzina and Brayers had finally reached the cell, just in time to see Harry and James practically staring each other down. Brayers swore under his breath. Rodzina silently agreed. The magic emanating from The combination of Potter and Occisor was almost visible, like a thick mist floating about the two.  
  
Lily touched James's arm, and he stepped back, giving Harry a good view of her. He looked her in the eye, and suddenly the dark color of his eyes faded slightly, not quite to their former emerald shade, but closer; a dark jade.  
  
In a single step, Lily was standing next to him, embracing him. Some unexplainable, intangible instinct in the motherly side of her recognized that this was her baby.  
  
Harry didn't seem to know what to do with the hug. It felt as if he had never known any type of love for a long, long time. Lily felt like screaming from the injustice of it. She could see little flashes of what had happened to him, what had happened to her, all the time that had passed. Time seemed to be something that was no longer within her reach.  
  
Behind her, James simply rested a hand on his son's shoulder. He flinched at the touch, but did not fight. James got the distinct feeling that he and his wife were the only people in the world that could touch him at that moment.  
  
Meanwhile, Rodzina glanced at Brayers.  
  
"Call V."  
  
*~*~*  
  
It had been a simple job of containing the other prisoners. Occisor had been somewhat of a challenge. She had hexed three guards — still wandless — and bit another in the hand. Eventually she was put in a Body-Bind and spells similar to those that had bound Harry. Separating Potter from Potters Sr. had been more of a challenge. Rodzina had settled for posting a heavy guard outside the cell where the three sat, conversing without words.  
  
Brayers had been given the honor of calling V. V was the anonymous informant that had given them the means of capturing Potter in the first place, along with periodically reinforcing the spells woven throughout Azkaban. He occasionally checked up on prisoners, a major event every time. No one knew who he was, or had even seen his face. When he examined Azkaban, he wore an Invisibility Cloak, and any who used charms to see through it would immediately be subject to a Memory Charm. Complete anonymity was required from him, or his help would be withdrawn.  
  
Contact was made through a Muggle contraption called a "cell phone". Using the "text messaging" program, the pass-code was punched in. The phone was then dropped into a box hidden under Rodzina's desk. Almost instantly it would ring, and show that contact had been made.  
  
Brayers found the cell phone and said:  
  
TheNobleGuard: I finished Leaena. Would you like it back?  
  
He dropped it into the box and waited. Sure enough, before he counted to five, the phone rang. He picked it up again, and saw the reply.  
  
VWrox: Who is this?  
  
TheNobleGuard: Brayers.  
  
VWrox: Ah. The new kid.  
  
TheNobleGuard: Yes...  
  
VWrox: What came up that you and your smartass wizards couldn't handle?  
  
TheNobleGuard: Black Phoenix got out.  
  
Black Phoenix was Occisor.  
  
VWrox: A problem.  
  
TheNobleGuard: She broke down all the protections, so now Lightning's out too.  
  
Lightning was Potter's code name.  
  
VWrox: You want me to catch him?  
  
TheNobleGuard: Not quite.  
  
VWrox: Oh. Zen wants me to go out there since she brought Lightning's parents.  
  
Zen was Rodzina.  
  
TheNobleGuard: How do you do that?  
  
VWrox: What?  
  
TheNobleGuard: Know they were here.  
  
VWrox: Don't ask me questions.  
  
TheNobleGuard: Okay.  
  
VWrox: I'll be there before you hang up.  
  
Brayers smirked and pressed the button. There was no —  
  
"What did I tell you? Smartasses, the lot of you snooty guards. Maybe not Rodzina, but you kids doubtless."  
  
Brayers whirled, only to see the red band painted on the hem of V's Invisibility Cloak. The voice was a soft, mellow baritone, with a strange accent to it, not quite English, but nothing Brayers could positively identify. In his mind Brayers automatically constructed a picture to match the voice: dark hair, tanned skin, chiseled face, strong, muscled body. The sort of man that starred in action movies as the brave, gallant hero with lots of weapons and gadgets and that always got the girl.  
  
"I'm complimented."  
  
"How — "  
  
"I told you about asking me questions," the voice said, suddenly dangerous.  
  
"Sorry. Now can you fix the wards?" he said, the apology losing sincerity in the face of urgency.  
  
"Already done," V said carelessly.  
  
"Already — "  
  
"I need to see Potter and his parents," V interrupted.  
  
"I don't think that's — "  
  
"Now."  
  
"This way."  
  
V had the ability to make you feel as if you were the most powerful person and the world or the dog dung stuck to the bottom of his shoe, depending on his mood. Brayers wondered why he didn't want a position in leadership. He seemed to be a veritable Minister of Magic...  
  
Wait.  
  
It couldn't be...no, the Minister wouldn't dare.  
  
Would he?  
  
Besides, he didn't sound like that.  
  
Charms can do a lot...  
  
Brayers hushed the voice in his head and opened the door to where the three currently sat. The red band swept into the stone room with the sound of boots clattering on the floor. The three looked up. Harry Potter looked surprised, then laughed.  
  
"Well, hello."  
  
"Don't say a word," V commanded evenly.  
  
Potter laughed still more. "Like you could stop me, Bittersweet."  
  
"Don't call me that. Ever."  
  
From the movement of the cloak, it was guessable that V had looked up, towards James and Lily Potter. The band then dropped, and a leather-gloved hand appeared.  
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Potter, please come with me," V said, his voice dropping from cold as ice and hard as diamonds to gentle and soft as velvet.  
  
Lily cocked a guarded head. "Who are you?"  
  
"I'm afraid I can't tell that to you. Secrecy is something I require."  
  
Harry laughed again. "I'll tell you who the mysterious V is." He said it mockingly.  
  
"And, as you can see, your son knows me," V said, sounding almost pained. "Although he won't tell, will he?"  
  
Harry smirked, but nodded. It seemed to be enough for both V and Harry's parents. They stood and followed the swinging red stripe of cloth and the clomping of boots down the hall, up several steps, and to the entrance of the prison. There the band flew above their heads, and for an instant V was revealed. In that moment, the couple caught the sight of dark blue, glistening gold, deep red and a poisonous green before it and they disappeared. They reappeared inside the Leaky Cauldron, alone. Lily took James's hand and looked into his eyes, which, like hers, were filled with grief and a newfound loneliness.  
  
For they knew what their son had been through. 


	3. Many Meetings

Slayer of Death  
  
Chapter Three: Many Meetings  
  
James and Lily took out a room above the Leaky Cauldron. They had meals delivered; the stares and whispers from occupants of the pub below were annoying, and the elder Potters were tired. For the longest time the two simply talked. It was most likely only a few hours, but it felt like a lifetime.  
  
Lily sat behind her husband, leaning against his back, her chin resting on his should just so that their cheeks were pressed together. "I can't believe this," she whispered, wrapping her arms around James like a little child looking for comfort. "Everything's wrong. Sirius is dead. Peter is dead. Remus is hiding." She shook her head and held it, as if she felt a sudden pain. "What happened while we were gone?"  
  
James stroked her hair. "Harry grew up."  
  
Lily swallowed a sob, a skill she had perfected at her fifth funeral before she was twenty. "We missed his childhood, James. We never saw him grow up. I had so many great plans for him — he would be an Auror, become famous, everyone would love him, we would have other children for him to play with."  
  
"From what I hear, his childhood was hardly something to rejoice in," James said bitterly.  
  
"I will kill Petunia," Lily said, her face suddenly drawn up and fierce so that she looked exactly like a lioness protecting her cubs. "Petunia and that damned husband of hers." She spat the expletive, her height growing and her eyes swirling into an angry hazel. "How dare they hurt my Harry! How dare they!"  
  
"Lily..."  
  
"NO!" she screamed abruptly. Suddenly she burst into rivers of tears, holding James close to her, neglecting the rage that had possessed her only moments before. "No, no, no..." James hugged her to his chest as she sobbed desperately onto his shoulder. "My Harry," she wept. "My dear, sweet baby Harry."  
  
She cried for an eternity or more before they fell asleep.  
  
*~*~*  
  
They woke the next morning to a light knock on the door. Lily kissed a sleepy James on the cheek and untangled herself from his arms.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Potter?" an attendant said, gingerly opening the door. "There's someone here to see you."  
  
James glanced worriedly at Lily, but her tears were long since dried. She held herself with a dignified air as they followed the attendant to a table in the pub below where five people sat, three men and two women. They appeared to be around Harry's age, give or take a year or two. All three of the men had shocking red hair, and so did the shorter of the two women. The other woman had curly brown hair, and stood possessively close to a tall, gangly redheaded man. Two of the men were quite obviously twins, identical down to their shirts, which read "Weasleys' Wizards' Wheezes!"  
  
"I'm sorry," said Lily politely, a bit of curiosity apparent. "I'm afraid I don't know you."  
  
The brown-haired woman leaned against the arm of the one very tall man. She gazed at James. "He does look just like him, Ron." She glanced at Lily and smiled sadly. "The eyes..."  
  
He rubbed her arm and whispered something in her ear. The two twins seemed to be in awe of James.  
  
"Prongs..." they said together.  
  
For the first time in ages, Lily saw a glimpse of the smirking, self- centered idiot James had been during his school days. But a quick elbow in the ribs sorted him out.  
  
The woman with ginger hair stepped forward and smiled slightly. "Excuse my family," she said in a beautiful accent somewhere between Irish, Spanish, and Italian. "They somewhat worship the two of you. You must understand they've heard all about you."  
  
Lily and James nodded, somewhat perplexed. The woman noticed and smiled again.  
  
"I apologize for not introducing us. This is Fred, George, Ron, his wife Hermione, and I, Ginny Weasley."  
  
The names were somewhat familiar. "Weasley?" Lily said, somewhat surprised. "Not one of Molly and Arthur's?"  
  
Ginny laughed. "All the redheads, and then another four."  
  
James suddenly remembered where he had heard of them. "Harry mentioned you!"  
  
They flinched at the name. Ginny's smile turned painful. "Yes. We were friends of his." She leaned closer and lowered her voice. "And we believe we know how to get him out."  
  
Lily's teeth clicked as her jaw set. "A jailbreak?" she asked disapprovingly, reminding James eerily of Minerva McGonagall.  
  
Ginny shook her head. "No. A rescue." Her hand shook, and she hid it in a pocket. She swayed slightly in her chair. "He's...he's...dying."  
  
Lily groped weakly for her husband's arm. He caught her hand and gently stroked it. "Dying?" he whispered softly.  
  
Ginny couldn't help but be fascinated by the chemistry literally visible — at least to her — between the two. The aura around Lily was almost entirely a soft shade of pink, streaked with red and accented with orange and gold with flecks of blue and purple, whereas James's aura was almost entirely blue, dotted with bits of purple and orange along with rays of pink. The two contrasted perfectly.  
  
"Yes," Ginny said quietly, tearing herself away from the magical fascinations and back to the dilemma at hand. "Harry...and I, for that matter...both had been affected by the same affliction. Have you ever heard of the Grindelwald Effect?"  
  
Lily nodded, regaining her semblance of composure once more. "Lord Grindelwald had so much unused power it began to rot, in a sense. It made him himself ill, weakening him to the extent that when Dumbledore attacked, destroying him was all too easy." She cringed. "You're saying that's what Harry has?"  
  
"Yes." Ginny's hands reappeared, and she gestured vaguely with them as she spoke, and she began to pace around the table. "Most people don't know the details of GE. What happens is that the given power of a witch or wizard discovers one of three natural boundless energy wells. They are named the Albus Well, the Nigrot Well, and the Arcus Well — respectively the White Well, the Black Well, and the Rainbow Well. The names represent the qualities held by the particular well. Those whose power draws from the Albus Well are generally flooded by "white" power — good power, in a sense, used with innocent charms and spells; black arts will advance it dramatically. Those whose power comes from the Nigrot Well generally burn their magic by necromancing and other black arts. But those whose power draws on the Arcus Well are given what is in essence perfect power, not too good, not too evil. It is easiest for them to use power, because any spell will better your chances of survival."  
  
Hermione took over. "There are five stages of GE. They are Stage One Acquirement, Stage Two Onset, Stage Three Crossroads, Stage Four Critical, and Stage Five Mortal. As you probably know, there are numbers for measuring power. Once 1,000 is reached, you are officially affected with GE, although there are very few symptoms. Stage Two isn't reached until 1,500, at which it is more apparent that one is ill. Stage Three begins at 2,000 and goes up to 9,000, and is the last point at which it can be reversed before there is no way to perform enough magic to burn off the excess power. Usually it is caught at that stage, since it is the longest. At Stage Four, death can be delayed, but mortality is inevitable. Once the number passes 10,000, delay becomes impossible. No treatment has any effect. Death is imminent, usually within a month of passing the 10,000 mark."  
  
Lily breathed deeply, her slim frame shaking. She rested a hand on James's back and discovered he, too, was trembling. She had enough composure to speak. "So unless Harry gets out...he will..."  
  
"Die," Ginny said quietly. "And I as well." She smiled sadly again. "You see, I draw from the Albus Well, and I am approaching Stage Three."  
  
Lily made a sort of apologetic half-smile and patted the hand which remained on the table. Ginny flinched at the contact, and pulled away, for at the touch, both women had felt the shock run through them.  
  
"It's the same with Harry," she explained, answering Lily's unspoken question. "We can only be touched by family, close friends and others at a close stage of GE; they develop a sort of resistance. But if someone else touches us..." She shrugged helplessly. "We conduct magic into them. Don't worry, you won't be hurt." She stood, and her friend and family followed. As she made her way out the door, she called back, "I'll owl you later. Oh, and Mrs. Potter — I wouldn't try any of the more powerful spells for a day or two. Precaution, you see."  
  
And they vanished, leaving a worried and perplexed couple in their wake. 


End file.
